Their Other Half
by LoliKatGirl
Summary: Elizabeth and Carol, twin separated at birth, have just entered the custody if two amazing men. Carol- DI Greg Lestrade. Elizabeth- Dr. John Watson. With one a complete and utter copy of Watson, the other Holmes, and a mix of teenage hormones, who knows what can happen?


Their Other Half 1 FINAL

LA/N: Hello, dear reader! (if any of you exist…) and welcome to my first ever published FanFic, Their Other Half! Missy-loves-Waffles and I came up with the idea for this very late one night, and we both loved it so much, we decided to make it real! Just so you all know, I write all of Carol, John, and Lestrades parts, while Missy writes Sherlock and Elizabeth.

We're both very proud of the story so far, and we hope that you enjoy it. (And yes. I do know her writing is ages better than mine. XD )

Enjoy, and feel free to review it all you want!

MA/N: Hi everyone, Missy-likes-Waffles here, formerly Sira-the-Awesome. I write Elizabeth and Sherlock, and am the one who told LoliKatGirl she had to write this with me. Thanks girl! Without you, this one-in-the-morning idea would have never developed past that- an idea. I also have her to thank for even getting me to watch Sherlock.

Just a disclaimer from me, personally. Some things that Elizabeth does during this fanfic are dangerous. A few of them you shouldn't do without proper training, others you shouldn't attempt at all. I'll explain more along the way. For now, I can't say much. Spoilers!

Disclaimer: This is a work by fans, for fans. We do not own anything except the plot and our respective OCs.

Enjoy!

OoOoOoO

Carol

Carol sighed, twitching her leg impatiently as she looked around the metro station. It had been almost an hour, but her new adoptive father was still nowhere to be found. _Maybe he forgot me…_she thought nervously, feeling panic well in her chest.

She sat down on her suitcase, brushing her hands on her black, faded jeans, and pulled out her phone from her worn black faux leather jacket as it buzzed to life with a text message.

Meet me outside, I'm wearing a tan trench coat and am next to a black suburban.

-GL

Groaning, she slipped her phone back into her jacket pocket and gathered her bags, brushing her auburn blonde hair away from her slightly tan, freckled face.

_He didn't forget me…but now I have to brave the crowds to find him._ The girl sighed. She had decided to leave her hair down this morning, instead of her usual high ponytail, and she was starting to regret it. Her grey-blue eyes scanned the station frustratedly until they stopped on the exit. She shuffled hurriedly towards it, her black Converse clunking as she stepped into the dim London light, blinking rapidly. Scanning the crowd, she met the eyes of her adoptive father, Greg Lestrade. This was the first time she had seen him in person, but she knew it had to be him from his kind smile and creases around his dark brown eyes. She sighed in relief. _God, I need to stop being so anxious all the time…_

Pushing her way through the mass of people, she bumped into him, her hair once again falling over her expressive face. Lestrade laughed and steadied the girl, holding her at arms length.

"So, you must be Carol!" He smiled warmly, still looking into her large, ocean eyes.

She smiled a little and nodded. "Yep, that's me."

Lestrade opened the passengers side door of the car and motioned for Carol to go inside.

"I'll put your bags in the back," Lestrade offered her, rather matter- of-factly.

Carol grabbed her backpack and hopped inside the car, looking around curiously at the crowded London streets.

She had grown up in California, but had always dreamed of moving to England one day. Though she wished the circumstances bringing her here were better.

_I wish Dad was here…_ she thought to herself, the familiar pang of grief splitting her chest.

She shook her head with a frown, as if the motion could erase the painful memory, and pulled out her phone again.

_I need a distraction…_ she thought with a sigh.

As if answering her need, her phone buzzed again, and her frown was replaced with an excited grin.

Soon, Lestrade rejoined her in the car, starting it up and occasionally glancing over at her, though she was too preoccupied with reading something on her phone to notice.

Carol loved a good mystery, and had just come across the blog of a detectives assistant, named Dr. John Watson. For the past month, she had barely done anything but read the case summaries on Watson's site. He worked with a man named Sherlock Holmes, who, even though he was peculiar, had something very familiar about him… Carol was reading his newest case summary, which she had been text notified about from his site. She had read every single one, and was always excited when he published something new.

Dr. John H Watson. Carol admired him so much. His way with words, the way he could turn the most boring case into the most exciting melodrama, his sense of humor that so reminded her of her own…she thought he was absolutely incredible.

"Carol…?" Lestrade's voice cut through her thoughts.

Carol jumped, eyes wide, and laughed shyly. "I was spacing out again, wasn't I?" She asked, blushing a bit.

Laughing warmly, he nodded. "I'd appreciate it if you would talk to me, considering this is our first meeting in person."

She nodded in agreement, barely meeting his eyes. Lestrade had done his best to contact her through emails and texts since he had adopted her a week ago. They had been friendly, exchanging funny little stories, talking about Carols interests and what classes she would be taking once school started up again after summer Holiday, but hadn't said much more. Carol had been too busy packing up her belongings and sending them to Lestrades place on the outskirts of London to say anything more than the normal friendly banter.

_What do I talk to him about? I don't want to screw up and sound shallow or stupid…! Ugh, here I go again. Damn anxiety._

They sat in silence for a moment, until Lestrade started talking again.

"So, Carol… what were you reading?" He asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

Her smile widened. _Yes! My chance to prove myself!_ "Oh, the blog of this detectives assistant, John Watson, I believe. "

Leatrades eyes went wide as he slammed his foot on the brakes. Carol gripped her seat, eyes widening with surprise.

_Damn, I messed up already…_she thought bitterly, biting her tongue. _What did I say?_

"You read Wastons blog?"

Carol looked over at him, confusion clouding her face. "Yes…?"

Lestrade sighed, massaging his temple. "Then you know about Sherlock Holmes, don't you?"

She nodded slowly, her brows knitting together. "Yes…?"

Lestrade turned slightly, looking at her with an exasperated sigh. "He's my consulting detective."

OoOoOoO

*John Watson*

"Dammit, John!" Sherlock Holmes threw his book across the room and flopped onto the couch, glaring at his flat mate, John Watson.

"Jesus, Sherlock! I didn't think you'd be this against me adopting a prodigy orphan!" John frustratedly shouted from behind his laptop, not looking up from his typing.

"I don't care if she's the next bloody Steven Hawking! She's a hormonal teenaged girl who's going to distract you from our job!" Sherlock shouted back as he rolled to face the blogger. John met the consulting detectives eyes for a split second, glaring, then looked back down to the keyboard.

"Sherlock, her mother and I were friends back in the service. When she adopted the girl, she wanted me to be her daughters godfather. I agreed, of course, thinking the extent of my duties would be sending her 20 pounds for her birthday and Christmas, and an occasional phone call. But when her mother stayed in the service after me, she didn't get out with a shot arm." The veteran sighed, stopped typing, and ran his right hand through his hair. "She died on a recon mission about 6 months back. I got a call from Mycroft about all this last night. The rest of the girls family is dead. I'm all she's got."

John looked up dejectedly to see Sherlock staring calmly out the window, his cool demeanor washing over the elder's grief.

Sherlock sighed and slumped deeper into the couch, coolness turning into frustration.

"Fine. Just don't let her hang around us when I'm working. Send her to Mrs. Hudson if necessary." John smiled, knowing he'd won the other man over. Sherlock looked over at him and huffed.

"Still not happy about this, Watson." John rolled his eyes and went back to typing, ignoring his flat mate's disdain. Mad at being ignored, Sherlock whisked past the blogger.

"I'll be in my room," he growled, slamming the door. John laughed.

"Oh, I forgot." The black haired one opened the door slightly and poked his head out with an exasperated sigh.

"What?"

"She'll be here in 20 minutes."

OoOoOoO

*Elizabeth*

Elizabeth looked out of the window with half-lidded eyes, her chin resting on her left palm and her forehead on the taxi's slightly tinted viewport. The driver in the front seat had long since stopped trying to make her answer or respond to him, instead using her as a bouncing block and spewing out random information about where they were. Though it was true she hadn't been raised in London (but had practically everywhere BUT there), she knew everything he was saying plus a bit more. The blonde was never lax in her research. Glancing down for a second at the phone held loosely in her right hand, she read again the message that'd been sent not minutes ago.

The address is 221B Baker St. The door'll be unlocked. I hope you enjoy the cab ride.

-JW

John Watson. Her new dad. Her old Godfather was now her real Father. She'd had no contact with him over the years other than a few emails, a call once or twice while she'd been in the hospital, and 20 pounds and a cheesy card on her birthday. She hadn't felt the need to research him any further than what the orphanage in Australia had given her, and her mother had told her. It would be simple to just read him when she got to the flat anyway.

For a second, having been distracted again by some comment the man in the front seat had said, she mused about what might be happening in the driver's personal life. She knew it had something to do with his wife from the way his wedding band sat on his finger, but felt no need to peruse the topic. Better to save her brain for more important things.

Elizabeth sighed and turned her attention back out towards the streets. It looked to be chilly outside, with people turning their coats up against the air. _Looks like the people at the airport were right; the sunny weather wasn't going to last._ The thought flashed through her mind, the sort of comment most people fret about. For her it was okay, though. She didn't mind weather in the slightest, just as she didn't care where people actually were when she wanted to talk to them. She ran on her schedule, in her world.

Releasing her face from her hand's grasp, the girl looked down at herself, pale skin almost blending in with the little white dress she was wearing. For a second she wondered if the seamstress had been having heart problem while she sewed it, but then dismissed the train of thought. Suddenly, she thought of a warning one of the other girl's at the orphanage had given her before she'd left.

"You shouldn't wear white so much, Lizzy. It washes you out. Makes you look even more invisible and sickly than you are."

She'd taken the comment in silence. She liked the look of white. It reminded her if her mother. At the thought, a sharp lance of pain shot through her heart. She winced slightly. Though she'd thought her heart had been sealed off long ago, her mother, the woman who raise her after she'd been abandoned as a baby, had managed to wiggle her way in before she'd closed and locked it tight. It doesn't help to care, she scolded herself. It only hurts in the end.

The car slid to a gentle stop in front of a building that Elizabeth recognized. The red overhang stood over the small shop next to her new home, just like in the picture she'd been given.

Home. The word bounced around in her head. It was an empty word, hollow. She felt no emotion towards the word; she'd erased its meaning. Elizabeth wasn't sure she wanted to find a new one for it.

The driver opened the door for her, letting the girl climb out if the cab gracefully. She glanced towards the trunk, before grabbing her backpack into her hands.

"Don't worry about yer luggage. You just go nock them there knocker and I'll start unloadin'. I'll even help ye carry it up." The driver gave the girl a cheerful smile. Then mentioned something about having a daughter her age for the fourth time. She offered him what she thought was a pleasant smile in return, and walked up to the door.

John Watson. Well, Dr. John Watson. He had been friends with her mother, and when she's been adopted during the woman's 5 year recovery from a training accident, he'd become her Godfather. Not that she'd ever seen him, and barely (if ever) heard from him. She knew he'd been sent home after taking a shot to the shoulder, and that he lived with one Sherlock Holmes. She had a thing or two to say to Mr. Holmes, and most of them were not very friendly; all but one was a correction of some sort or a scolding. Having read through every inch of Holme's site in the last two days, she had had a jolly time finding every mistake she could, hiding the fact that admiration for the man was growing somewhere inside her.

Confidently, she took hold of the iron knocker and gave a good solid wham with it to the door, followed by another. Then she waited. There was a clear flurry of activity on the other side of the door. For a second she wondered if they hadn't been prepared for her. It seemed that he'd only been given a day's notice of her arrival. Glancing at her watch, she affirmed her hunch that she was exactly an hour and twenty one minutes later than she's expected. The door opened, and a cheerful face poked out, short sandy hair glowing from being backlit.

"Elizabeth?"

"That's me." She offered a polite smile towards the man. "Nice to meet you."

"It's very nice to see you, Elizabeth. Here let me help you carry your luggage."

"Thank you." Her eyes watched him carefully, focused on his hands. "Please be careful with that one. It's my viola." With that comment, the blonde turned and walked into the building, making her way towards 221B. For a second, she glanced in a mirror mounted in the hallway, taking in her high bun of almost white hair, the small elastic headband that kept stragglers back, the dress she was wearing, and the necklace from her mother around her neck. She hoped, for a minute, that she looked like a normal girl to Dr. Watson, before continuing on her way. It didn't matter really; she'd just end up showing him how she really was sooner or later. Opening the door into 221B, Elizabeth immediately spotted the edge of a sheet dashing around a corner. She chose to ignore it.

"Ah. Here you are, Elizabeth. Shall I show you to your room?"

"I already know where it is, but sure."

"You already-? Okay, then. Well, follow me." Watson walked past her, a large duffle across his back, a roller trailing behind him, a viola case in his left hand, and long, black bag at his side. It was an interesting look. "Your flight came in a while ago. Were you delayed at the airport?"

"It took longer than anticipated to explain the swords and rifles then I expected."

John stopped and looked at Elizabeth with a confused expression. "I'm sorry, did you just say swords and rifles?"

Elizabeth sighed. "Oh not you too. Come on, my room's just ahead." She led the way, already deducing exactly where everything in the flat was.

"I won't let you go off and shoot walls like Sherlock, Lizzy."

"It's just Elizabeth. I don't do the Lizzy thing. There is no need for concern, um, Dad. These are perfectly fine. Only way to hurt you or myself would be hit one of us on the head." Elizabeth looked down at the folder clenched in her right hand. She'd removed it from her backpack after she'd gotten out of the Taxi, and under the surface she was excited to finally be able to turn the files in. "Do you think we could pop over to Scotland Yard right quick after setting everything down? I have to take care if a few thing."

OoOoOoO

*John Watson*

Elizabeth looked like an angel.

It had taken every fiber of restraint he had in his being not to stare gaping at the girl when he opened the ground floor door to his flat at 221b Baker Street.

Everything about her was pale and ethereal. Her ivory skin, ice blue eyes, the way she glided across the room. The way she carried herself reminded him of...

of…

Well, he couldn't put a finger on who just yet, but he knew he eventually would. His mind flashed back 17 minutes.

He had waited impatiently, pacing the flat and occasionally tidying certain things, such as putting used teacups in the sink, and hiding away as many of Sherlocks "experiments" as he could.

Sherlock would poke his head out of his room and glare every time he heard the sandy haired one move something he didn't approve of.

"It's just a bloody teacup!"

"It's part of-"

"An experiment, I know! Shut it! The girl will be here soon!"John flopped into his favorite chair with an exasperated sigh.

Sherlock watched the scene from his doorway, just as detached as ever.

"John, I know you're a sentimental man, _foolish as it is…_ so I've made a list of all the common nicknames for Elizabeth. The least grating is Lizzy. But in case you don't approve, there's 17 others."

John turned and stared at the bed-sheet-clothed figure, look of confusion turning to fond annoyance.

"You are a wonder, Sherlock."

"I try." Without another sound, his door glided shut.

John sighed, laughing a little at his flatmates behavior and pulled out his laptop, beginning to type away. He found that he had the bad habit of nervous blogging, which in his case, did him no good. Practically all of London read his blog, so he had to be very careful not to reveal too much about his personal life, no matter how harmless it might seem at the time.

He was lost in a train of thought when he heard a loud knock at the door. Jumping out of his chair and throwing his laptop onto the couch, he scurried down the stairs, practically knocking down Mrs. Hudson.

"Careful, dear!" She called from her doorway, flustered.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson!" John called back, breathlessly. He stopped to collect himself at the door, and opened it slowly.

And there she was.

Somehow, he knew his life would never be the same.

OoOoOoO

LA/N: So, I hope you guys liked the first chapter! I'm still really new to all this, so please excuse my awkward authors notes. Missy and I have started writing chapters 2 and 3 already, but we don't have any specific schedule for when the next chapters will come out. Well try to update once a week, but who knows? You'll just have to be happy with what you get. :3

Thanks for reading!

LoliKatGirl

MA/N: I hope you all enjoyed our combined efforts on this story and will look forward to the next chapter!

Missy Out.


End file.
